


Don’t defend it, Stiles!

by Cinder7storm4



Series: How can I trust you? [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Birthday Cake, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) is Part of the Pack, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Stilinski Cooks, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, The Hale Pack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinder7storm4/pseuds/Cinder7storm4
Summary: Stiles cooks for Scott. Scott confronts Stiles.





	Don’t defend it, Stiles!

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.
> 
> *So damn angsty. I want to be sorry, but I'm not. It'll get better; I promise.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. The pack ate together at lunch and eventually, when the final bell rang the boys made their way to the locker room to change for lacrosse practice. Scott and Isaac both tried to keep an eye on Stiles, who seemingly unaware of their attention still made the decision to change near Boyd, which kept him out of their line of sight. He wasn’t out of Boyd’s view though and it was the quiet beta who asked Stiles where he’d gotten the scrapes on his arms, both Isaac and Scott listening in as Stiles mumbled out that he’d broken something over the weekend. 

“I didn’t notice them on Sunday,” Boyd commented.

“Well, I don’t just wear flannel for its warmth or style, it covers up all the stupid crap I end up doing. You know, drawing on my arm in class and shit,” replied Stiles, his heartbeat not skipping a beat, but his response was far from reassuring for the rest of the pack.

Just then Coach called them all onto the field and Stiles ducked out of the locker room before Scott could ask him anything. He met Isaac’s eyes, the other beta looked thoughtful “What is it?” Scott asked as he and Isaac ran out onto the field.

“He wasn’t lying. It might not be someone else hurting him you know,” Isaac commented, before breaking off from Scott to take his place in the drills line up next to Stiles and Boyd. 

The thought of Stiles hurting himself made Scott even more anxious, and his head was definitely elsewhere throughout practise. At one point, Boyd, seemingly taking mercy on Scott shadowed him during one of their plays, keeping Scott from running into his teammates and missing obvious shots. 

“What the hell’s up with you, man?” Boyd asked as they headed back to the locker room, Isaac and Stiles having gone ahead.

“I’m just worried about Stiles,” admitted Scott.

“Well, you’re no use to him distracted,” Boyd commented then clapped his packmate on the shoulder before heading into the locker room, “Besides, he still has us if you can’t figure your shit out soon” the beta called back, tone somewhat taunting. 

With that Scott glowered at the other wolf and followed him to the showers, “I’m not even near giving up yet,” growled Scott.

“Good to know,” Boyd replied, a smirk on his lips. 

As they walked toward Stiles’ jeep, finally having said goodbye to the rest of the pack Scott’s phone rang. Stiles paused, fidgeting with his keys as Scott answered the phone.

“Hey sweetheart,” Melissa’s voice came through, tired but determined to Scott’s senses, “I’m off in about an hour and I figured I’ll stop by to see John after I’m done for the day,” she paused, “I got your texts from this morning, but I think we need to be careful about this, okay? If we’re off the mark this could really hurt both of them.”

“I know, mom,” Scott replied, wishing for a moment that Stiles wasn’t right beside him so he could share his fear that maybe Stiles was hurting himself. He still wasn’t happy with how scared Stiles had been that morning with his dad though. Stiles’ eyes looked up from the ground to meet Scott’s when he said the word, mom. Scott cursed himself, Stiles had probably figured Allison had called and that he was going to cancel their plans. 

“Look mom, we’re just heading to our place right now so call if you need anything okay?” 

“He’s standing right there with you, isn’t he?” Melissa’s voice was both fond and anxious, “Okay, well, tell him I’m heading to his place to check him over after the wolfsbane incident on Friday; I wouldn’t mind making sure he’s in one piece. Give him a hug from me.”

“Will do, Mom.”

“Love you, Scott.”

“Love you too, Mom.” Scott ended the call and then pulled a distracted Stiles into a hug. His friend flailed for a moment before getting his bearings. 

“Pretty sure, I haven’t said anything to merit this, Scotty.” Stiles was more than happy to be hugged, but he wasn’t sure why it was happening, which made him uncomfortable. 

“From my mom,” Scott said, squeezing his friend just a bit tighter then letting him go and taking their lacrosse equipment and tossing it into the back of the jeep. Stiles seemed a bit off balance, but then shrugged and threw himself into the driver’s seat, Scott sliding in next to him and they drove off to the McCall house. 

It was weird, only for a moment, when Stiles set foot in the McCall house for the first time in several months for a reason that didn’t include a supernatural creature terrorizing the town. Then Scott bundled him over the threshold and pulled him into the kitchen where he stood for a moment, head cocked, he hadn’t actually thought about what dinner would be. Stiles rolled his eyes at his friend and set about grabbing various things from the fridge, throwing together a pasta dish that smelled delicious.  
Scott tried to protest at first, saying that Stiles didn’t need to cook “It makes me feel useful, Scott.” The rest of his protests died on his lips, watching as his friend moved about the kitchen with a grace he rarely showed elsewhere. 

“When did you learn to cook?” Scott asked, genuinely curious, thinking back over the years and how Stiles just knew how to do some things that Scott didn’t. Some of those things were more embarrassing than others. The day Scott had tried to do the laundry on his own at ten and had only been saved from bleaching his clothes by Stiles. 

Stiles shrugged absently, but Scott could tell his question had made his friend a bit uncomfortable. Normally, Scott would just start talking about something else, but he didn’t want to be that type of friend anymore. 

“Seriously, did you like take classes or something? I feel like I would have remembered you not being around to play video games one night a week or whatever.”

“Nah, I didn’t take lessons,” Stiles replied, stirring his sauce and turning down the burner, “My mom used to cook a lot. I watched; it was like the only time I sat still as a kid probably.”

“Did you cook with her?” Scott asked, knowing that talking about Claudia could be dangerous territory, especially considering what his mom had revealed to him the other night.

“No, I was a bit too accident prone at that age to be much help in the kitchen.”

Scott’s brow furrowed in confusion then “But then how did you get so good?” 

“Practise,” Stiles replied easily and vaguely.

Unbidden an image floated to the front of Scott’s mind of a cake Stiles had brought to his house when he had turned twelve. It had been chocolate and vanilla swirl, because Scott never could decide between the two flavours with an icing that had been lighter than a cloud. It had been heavenly and both boys had spent the afternoon eating it and playing video games. So, when his next birthday had rolled around he’d begged him mom to get him another one from the bakery in town only to discover that they didn’t make cakes like that and he’d been so upset. 

But, Stiles had turned up again with another awesome cake for his thirteenth birthday, both of their parents working late shifts. Stiles had told him that the cake had come from somewhere in town but he’d never been specific. 

“You make my birthday cakes,” Scott said, the fondness in his voice coming through as he looked at Stiles who blushed lightly, but kept stirring his sauce, “There was no super secret bakery hook up in town.”

‘Well, technically, that wasn’t a lie,” Stiles replied, his shoulders hunching in a bit.

“You rock, bro” Scott stated. 

Stiles flicked his eyes up to look and Scott then, rolled his eyes “You’re too easily pleased, Scotty.”

As Stiles started actually portioning out the dinner he’d made as well as packing up the rest, attaching instructions for reheating to some Tupperware and sticking it in the fridge for Melissa Scott’s phone dinged. His mom was just getting off her shift and expected to be at the Stilinski house in around thirty minutes after she changed and sorted out some paperwork. 

“Mom’s just finishing up her shift,” he told Stiles, wanting his friend to know that he did in fact have his full attention. 

“It has been hectic all around for them recently,” Stiles commented, which gave Scott an in to ask about his dad.

“How’s your dad dealing with all of this?”

Stiles shrugged, “Better than I expected,” he toyed with his food, not really eating it. 

“He seemed tense this morning,” Scott tried to keep his tone casual. 

“Yeah, well, I guess that comes from all the shit I’ve put him through,” murmured Stiles seeming to forget that Scott’s enhanced hearing could pick up his words, “He’s trying really hard, Scott” was what Stiles said at a normal volume. 

“I believe you, Stiles” Scott noticed Stiles’ anxiety spike at the word ‘believe’ again just like it had when Lydia had said it the other day “I just want to be sure that you’re okay while you’re trying to look after everyone else.”

Stiles just nodded and murmured something about how helping people kept him out of trouble and then tried to continue eating but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to chew his food. Scott, who’d already started on his second plate of food could tell his friend was uncomfortable with this conversational turn too. Then something occurred to Scott as he looked at his almost empty plate and ran over the last few minutes of their conversation in his head “Is that why you learned to cook?” 

“What?”

“To look after your dad,” Scott felt anger bubble up from deep inside himself, imagining his best friend, barely eight making food for his father who should have been looking after him, not the other way around “My mom stopped bringing over food about two months after the funeral, she said your dad had gotten a handle on things. That things were being kept together well enough considering,” Scott stated, recalling the conversation he’d overhead between his parents. 

Stiles had stopped eating altogether, his shoulders slumped forward “Look, Scott…”

“Don’t, don’t defend it, Stiles! Please, god,” Scott pleaded with his friend.

“So, I stepped up okay? What’s the problem with that, Scott?” Stiles’ shoulders tensed as he spoke, but his eyes, fixed on a point behind Scott were tired. 

“You were eight, Stiles!” Scott almost roared back, his anger getting the better of him. His friend flinched back from his words, so similar to the ones his father had spoken to him when he’d admitted to thinking he played a part in his mother’s death. 

Stiles flinch made Scott think about the conversation his mom would be having with John in a matter of minutes. “Stiles,” Scott, reigned his wolf in and brought his tone back to a normal volume, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled, I just, man, you’ve got to know that wasn’t okay, that wasn’t normal.”

“Normal is just a word, Scott” Stiles said, voice still tired but he went to clear their dishes, trying to redirect the conversation they were having. Scott tried to wrap his mind around Stiles’ resignation to what had happened as Stiles turned back from the dishwasher he found himself cornered by Scott in the kitchen. “I’m all good, Scott, okay? It taught me some discipline. I learned to look after myself. It wasn’t like it was abuse.”

“It was neglectful, Stiles,” Scott protested, then he asked, “Was there?”

“Was there what, Scott?” Stiles looked at his friend in an unimpressed manner, barely keeping his anxiety under control. 

“Abuse.” The moment the word left his lips he felt a shiver of fear flash through Stiles, but then it was replaced by anger. 

“What the hell, Scott?!” Stiles made to push his friend away from him, shocked by the teen’s implication. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Scott stayed still, keeping Stiles where he was.

“Why the hell would you ask me that? When have I given any indication that…” Stiles spit out his words, venom in his voice. Several months ago, Scott would have let it go, but now, now he was going to stand his ground. 

“When you didn’t tell me, or anyone else about your mom,” Scott spoke quietly, aiming to keep his tone soothing, but his words caused more cold fear to wash over Stiles, before the heat of his friend’s anger returned. 

“No one knows about that, except…” things started to add up in Stiles’ head, from the phone call the night before to Melissa’s mysterious absence from her own house despite the fact that her shift had ended well over half an hour ago “Where is your mom, Scott?” Stiles’ voice was cold. 

“At your house,” replied Scott “She wanted to make sure you were okay after last weekend,” his voice still aiming to be calming and soft, “Stiles, if something’s happening, you need to…”

The rest of Scott’s words were cut off as Stiles suddenly leaned forward, and Scott relaxed his stance to catch his friend who, suddenly righted himself and in that moment of surprise, hooked his leg around Scott’s ankle and sent the werewolf sprawling against the counter. Stiles darted for the door, not looking back, he had to get to his house before Melissa. He threw himself in his jeep, watching as Scott got to the door, a little slower due to the sprained ankle he’d given him, but then Stiles was gone. Scott pulled his phone out, dialing his mom to warn her, but he only got her voicemail. Scott ran after his friend, following Stiles’ erratic and panicked heartbeat with one ear as he did so.


End file.
